


She's a Lady

by fallingintodivinity



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Crossdressing, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 10:51:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12130857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingintodivinity/pseuds/fallingintodivinity
Summary: Percival Graves needs a partner to pose as his date on an upcoming mission. His best friend, Theseus Scamander, volunteers his little brother, Newt.





	She's a Lady

  

  

“Remind me,” said Newt, “why I’m doing this again?”

Clad only in his underpants, he stepped into the delicate silk garment his twin brother was holding up in front of him, then stood with an air of resignation as Theseus pulled the dress up over his slender frame and fastened the slim straps over his shoulders. He raised a hand to push one of the straps away so he could scratch his shoulder.

“Because, darling,” Theseus said cheerfully, “Percy’s my best friend and I’m sure my sweet little brother wouldn’t mind helping him out.” He smacked Newt’s hand away and expertly readjusted the silk strap, then stuffed some padding down the front of the dress.

“All your Aurors were fighting over Director Graves again,” Newt said, “weren’t they.” His eyes were bright with mirth.

Theseus snickered. The moment the mission brief had been released, the entirety of the Ministry of Magic’s Auror Office had volunteered – _very_ enthusiastically – to assist the handsome visiting Director of Magical Security from MACUSA, who was in London for a couple of weeks to work on some joint projects with the Ministry.

Said Director, Percival Graves, had eyed the crowd of Aurors with mild alarm, beat a hasty retreat and diplomatically announced that he would let the Ministry’s Head Auror, Theseus Scamander, assign him his partner.

Theseus had then diplomatically announced that in the interests of not playing favorites, he would be asking his brother, Newt, from Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, to accompany Graves on his undercover mission. There had been a collective sigh of disappointment at that, but the crowd of Aurors had obediently dispersed.

Both Theseus and Newt looked up as someone knocked on the door, then Percival Graves let himself into the room. He nodded politely at both men.

“Percy!” said Theseus cheerfully. “Hold this for me.” He shoved a gaudy jeweled hairclip at Graves, who blinked and gingerly took the hairclip.

“Hello, Director Graves,” said Newt, with a shy smile.

“Newt,” said Graves, his usual stern expression softening.

Theseus watched the exchange with interest, then turned to Newt. “I did think it would be a good idea for Percy to bring someone from Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, since tonight’s target is a smuggler,” he said cheerfully.

“I thought,” Newt said suspiciously, “this raid is on his mansion to retrieve his personal documents. We don’t expect to find magical creatures in _there_ , do we?”

“You never know,” Theseus said. “Best to be prepared and all. Now hold still so Percy can put this thing in your hair.” He waved a hand at the hairclip Graves was still holding.

“I’m sure,” Graves said dryly, “you could do this much better than I could.” He attempted to hand the hairclip to Theseus, who waved him away and dug out a pair of high-heeled patent leather pumps from the bag he’d brought with him. Newt eyed the heels in dismay.

Looking a little uncertain, Graves approached Newt, brandishing the hairclip like a weapon. Theseus watched Graves with amusement, barely managing to stifle a laugh.

“You could have asked Mathilda. Mathilda Grimblehawk?” Newt said, tilting his head to give Graves a better angle to slide the jeweled monstrosity into his curls. “You’ve met her, right? Works in my department, is probably better qualified to pose as Director Graves’s _wife_ because she’s _actually a girl_?”

“Mm,” Theseus said vaguely. “The name sounds familiar. I might have met her once.” He watched carefully as Graves snapped the hairclip into place, then beamed in a satisfied manner.

“Why do I always have to be the girl?” asked Newt petulantly. Graves gave him an odd look.

“Er,” said Newt, blushing fiercely. “Theseus has made me help him with a few missions like this,” he said hastily to Graves in an explanatory fashion.

Graves’s eyebrows rose. “Ah,” he said, then looked over at his friend. “ _Really_ , Theseus.”

“But you do it so well, love,” Theseus said to Newt. He winked at Graves, then leaned over to give his twin an affectionate peck on his cheek.

Newt pouted at Theseus but subsided, stepping into the high heels his twin had placed in front of him. He lifted one leg up to adjust the shoe, then yelped as he overbalanced, tumbling to the floor and taking a startled Graves with him.

“I’m so sorry!” Newt squeaked from where he was sprawled across Graves’s lap, bright red with mortification.

“That’s okay,” said Graves, looking a little flushed himself. He patted Newt awkwardly on the arm.

Theseus looked down at his best friend and his twin, lying in a tangled heap on the floor at his feet, and grinned.

“Looks like you might need a little more practice walking in those heels, little brother.”

 

***

 

“Good to see you again, Mister Platt,” Graves said politely, shaking the rather befuddled-looking wizard’s hand. “It’s been quite a while.”

Graves had Apparated himself and Newt directly into the garden party that was being hosted by the target, Sylvanius Platt, and, with Newt in tow, had gone to cordially greet the host.

“And you remember my wife, Artemis, of course?” Graves added, slipping his arm around Newt’s waist.

Platt looked Newt up and down with great interest, suddenly looking a lot less befuddled and rather more...predatory.

“But of course I do,” he said smoothly. “How could I forget such a beautiful face?” He took Newt’s hand and raised it to his lips, the kiss lingering on Newt’s fingers just a shade longer than necessary.

Newt smiled shyly up at Platt and tried not to shudder. Next to him, Graves stiffened almost imperceptibly and cleared his throat. His arm tightened around Newt.

“It’s so wonderful to see you again, Mister Platt,” said Newt earnestly, his voice pitched an octave higher than normal. “You promised to show me your new Flutterby bushes the next time we visited – I’ve really been looking forward to seeing them!”

“Of course, of course!” Platt beamed eagerly at Newt, offering him his arm. Newt detached himself from Graves and took Platt’s arm, then turned to Graves, who was eyeing Platt suspiciously.

“Why don’t you get us something to drink, dear?” Newt said brightly. He shot Graves a pleading look which he fervently hoped conveyed the message, _please be quick about gathering the evidence you need so I don’t have to spend too long with this creep._

“Of course, my dear,” said Graves. He stared at Platt for another half-second, then strode off purposefully.

 

***

 

“ – and this is the _very_ rarest Flutterby species there is,” said Platt. “Cost me a small fortune,” he added boastfully.

Newt had followed Platt deeper into the gardens, a little further from the bustle of the garden party. The two men were sitting on a stone bench by a small cluster of shimmering Flutterby bushes, their tiny leaves pale and silvery in the moonlight. Newt fought back a grimace as he remembered exactly where Platt’s fortune had come from, and concentrated on _not_ thinking about the poor magical creatures Platt had smuggled for coin, lest he hex the bastard.

“They’re so beautiful,” he sighed instead, pretending to be deeply absorbed in staring at the plants. As Platt inched closer, staring at Newt’s lips, Newt giggled nervously and slid further away on the bench.

“I’d, er, really like to get a sample of this species for my garden,” he said desperately. “We just bought a little place in the country, you see, and I finally have a small garden of my own...perhaps you could tell me how to acquire one of these?”

He gave Platt his brightest, most hopeful smile, the one that usually got him anything he wanted when he used it on Theseus.

“Well,” Platt grunted, looking slightly dazed. He cleared his throat. “I can do better than that, my dear Artemis. I believe I have a small number of seeds left over. You may have them if you wish.”

“Oh, thank you!” Newt tipped his head to one side and smiled. A tendril of hair slipped free from his hairclip, and he raised a hand to brush it back. Unbidden, the memory of Graves leaning close, warm hands slipping the hairclip into his curls, the faint, musky scent of his cologne tickling Newt’s nose, came to him then, and he felt his cheeks grow hot.

He turned his head away, unwilling to let Platt see his blush, but Platt simply seemed to assume that Newt was shy, and chuckled indulgently.

“Just wait here, my dear. I’ll be right back.” Platt patted Newt’s silk-clad thigh in a proprietary manner, then got up and strode off toward the mansion on the other side of the gardens. Newt barely managed to stop himself from flinching. Director Graves had better be finding some really good evidence against Platt, he thought grumpily.

 

***

 

Finally rid of the odious wizard, Newt leaned back against the cool stone of the bench, relaxing. He sat in pleased silence for a full three minutes before realizing that he’d been supposed to keep Platt _away_ from the house, because _Director Graves was currently in there going through Platt’s personal documents._

“Oh _no_ ,” he moaned, dropping his head into his hands.

Glancing around quickly and finding nobody nearby, he stuck his hand down the front of his dress and dug around in the padding until he found Pickett, who had been happily dozing in the soft padding.

“Pickett, I need your help,” he whispered, pulling the sleepy Bowtruckle out of his dress. “Director Graves might be in trouble, and it’s my fault.”

Pickett woke abruptly and stared up at Newt in a worried manner.

“Could you go warn Director Graves that Mister Platt is somewhere in the house, please?” Newt said, placing Pickett gently on the ground.

As the Bowtruckle disappeared into the grass, Newt, stood, brushed his skirt off and strolled back toward the crowded garden party, trying to look relaxed and nonchalant and _not at all in a hurry_.

It took him a good fifteen minutes to make his way through the throng of people, dodge three wizards and a witch who all eyed him with keen interest and tried to strike up a conversation as he passed them, and make his way to the backyard behind the mansion, which was quiet and deserted.

There was still no sign of Director Graves, Pickett or Platt. Newt paced up and down behind the house, bubbling with nervous energy. The mansion was most likely secured by a whole series of magic detection charms; trying to cast any spell to get himself inside would most likely bring an entire contingent of Platt’s security personnel down on his head.

His gaze fell on a drainpipe running up the side of the house. Newt paused and eyed it thoughtfully. Looking up, he could see a window – slightly ajar – just to the right of the drainpipe, on the second floor of the mansion.

Nodding decisively to himself, Newt took a quick look around to make sure he was still alone, then hurried over to the drainpipe. He hiked his skirt up to his thighs and scaled the drainpipe easily – years spent chasing after creatures had made him an expert climber – and, gripping the pipe tightly with one hand and both thighs, leaned over to slide the window open.

The window slid open a tiny amount, then got stuck.

Newt scowled and tugged harder, to no avail. Sighing, he gripped the drainpipe more tightly with both thighs, leaning even further over the window to pull at the sill with both hands.

There was a surprised noise from just within the window.

“ _Newt?_ What are you – ”

The windowsill finally yielded to Newt’s insistent tugging and slid upward abruptly. Newt, already balanced precariously, tumbled head-first through the window and landed squarely on the room’s occupant, sending them both to the ground.

“ – _oof_ ,” said Graves, sprawled flat on his back with Newt sitting across his stomach. Newt’s dress was still hiked up around his thighs.

“Um, hello,” Newt said. He couldn’t help smiling, relieved that Platt hadn’t found Director Graves after all. Not that he thought Director Graves couldn't handle Platt. In fact, he was sure Director Graves was very good at dueling. He'd probably be very quick, and graceful, and...and he _really shouldn't be thinking about this right now._

Graves raised an eyebrow at Newt. As Newt shifted, Graves eyed the smooth, pale expanse of Newt’s thighs, swallowed hard, and hastily patted Newt’s dress back in place.

“Er,” said Newt. “I came to warn you. Mister Platt is in the house somewhere.”

“He left you out there alone and came back in here?” asked Graves, raising an eyebrow. “He seemed rather taken with you, last I checked.” He scowled darkly.

“It was my fault, actually,” said Newt sheepishly. “I kind of...ran out of things to say to him, so I asked if he could tell me where to buy those really expensive Flutterby bushes he has, and he said he had extra seeds he could give to me. So he came indoors to look for them.”

“Just like that?” said Graves. “You _are_ aware that one of those bushes costs only slightly less than this entire mansion?”

“Er,” said Newt. “Really?”

“Really,” Graves said dryly, and smiled faintly. “It seems you really are quite irresistible.”

Newt blushed.

“Oh!” he said, suddenly remembering. “Did Pickett find you?”

“Pickett?” Graves said, frowning. “Your Bowtruckle? No – was he supposed to?”

“I sent him to warn you,” Newt said, looking worried now. “I’d better go look for him.”

Graves nodded, helping Newt off him. “Let’s go. We should move quickly, if Platt’s in here.”

Newt nodded, straightening his dress as Graves stood, brushing off his dress robes. Graves strode over to the door of the room, unlocking it and pulling it open, Newt close behind him.

A movement at Graves’s feet made him stop short.

“Pickett!” exclaimed Newt, peering over Graves’s shoulder. The Bowtruckle was standing on the other side of the room door, little arms crossed. Ducking around Graves, Newt knelt on the floor and held his hand out to Pickett, who climbed up onto his palm, looking grumpy.

Graves, meanwhile, was examining the door.

“There isn’t any space between the bottom of the door and the ground,” he told Newt, pointing at the thick carpet. “That’s why Pickett couldn’t get into the room.” Newt nodded ruefully.

“Thank you, though,” Graves said solemnly to Pickett, who looked mollified, his leaves perking up. He waved a tiny arm at Graves before climbing back into Newt’s dress.

 

***

 

“Did you find the documents you needed?” Newt asked, closing the door behind him as they started down the corridor.

Graves nodded, patting the pocket of his robes. “Yes, I made copies – ”

They both froze as footsteps became audible around the corner from where they were standing.

Graves’s eyes widened, then, quickly, he spun them around, walking Newt backward so that they were both partially hidden by the heavy drapes lining the corridor.

“Just one more kiss before we go, dearest,” he said, voice low, intimate. “You know I can never resist you.”

Newt couldn’t help the blush that colored his cheeks, even as he knew Graves was just putting on an act for whomever was coming down the corridor. Still – the Director was standing so tantalizingly close, face just inches from his; he could just pretend…

“But, but, we’re in _public_ ,” he said, remembering at the last minute to pitch his voice a little higher. He didn’t even have to try very hard to make his protest sound halfhearted; Graves’s voice, deep and warm, and the weight of his half-lidded gaze, were making Newt’s insides squirm in a rather pleasant way.

The footsteps stopped briefly, then started up again, growing louder.

Graves tilted his head, pressing a line of soft kisses up the curve of Newt’s jaw. Newt squeaked in surprise, then that turned into a soft, surprised moan as Graves tugged gently on Newt’s earlobe with his teeth. Impulsively, Newt turned his head and pressed his lips to Graves’s.

Graves’s eyes widened in shock, then slowly slid shut as the kiss deepened. Newt’s arms tightened about Graves’s waist, pulling him closer as Graves brought one hand up to tenderly cradle Newt’s jaw, the other hand tightly curled around Newt’s wrist.

When the two men finally parted for breath, they stared at each other for a moment, arms still around each other, eyes wide, breaths coming fast.

“I – ” Graves opened his mouth, shut it, then pursed his lips, desire, confusion and guilt chasing across his face in quick succession. “Gods, I’m so sorry, Newt, I didn’t mean to do that.”

Newt caught Graves’s hand in his before Graves could draw back.

“Did you not want to, Director?” he asked, looking searchingly at Graves. “Because I did…”

“Hey!”

Graves spun around at the shout, Newt peeking around his shoulder. Two wizards dressed in plain black robes had come around the corner – probably the ones whose footsteps they’d heard earlier, thought Newt. He sighed to himself, wishing that he’d had just a couple more minutes alone with the Director to sort out what had just happened between them.

The two black-robed wizards had their wands out, pointing them at Graves and Newt.

“Guests aren’t allowed in here,” said the first one sternly.

The second one lowered his wand and elbowed his companion in the ribs, smirking. “Looks like someone was looking for some privacy.” He looked Graves and Newt up and down, and chuckled.

Newt ducked his head, blushing. Graves’s plan had worked, certainly; possibly even a little _too_ well.

The first wizard rolled his eyes. “Mister Platt’s private residence isn’t a hotel,” he said, but lowered his wand as well, looking faintly amused. “You’d do well to find another location for your – whatever it is you were doing.”

The second wizard burst out laughing. “Go on, then,” he said tolerantly, making shooing motions at Graves and Newt.

“Our apologies for trespassing,” Graves said politely, not a hair out of place. He took Newt’s hand. “Let’s go, Ne – _Artemis_.”

 

***

 

Newt let Graves lead him along the corridor, down the stairs and past a couple more hallways before speaking again.

“Um, Director Graves?” he said hesitantly.

“Yes?” said Graves.

“You never answered my question, earlier,” said Newt. He looked over at Graves inquiringly.

Graves stumbled a little, recovered his balance, then glanced over at Newt. “What question?”

Newt worried his lip uncertainly, but persevered. “What happened earlier…you didn’t want to?”

“Ah,” said Graves. “Well.” Uncharacteristically, he hesitated.

“ _Director,_ ” said Newt pleadingly.

Graves looked over at Newt again, and Newt realized that his uncertainty must have shown plainly on his face, because Graves’s expression softened.

“Please, call me Percival. All things considered, I think we should be on a first-name basis now,” he said. “And to answer your question – yes, I did want to. I’ve been wanting to do that for – for some time now.”

Newt stopped short in the middle of the hallway.

“Newt?” said Graves, eyeing him worriedly.

“Direc – _Percival_ ,” moaned Newt, “you can’t say that to me while we’re _in the middle of a mission_ and still expect me to be able to be of any use.”

“Oh,” said Graves, looking amused. “Sorry.”

Newt sighed.

“Oh no,” he said blandly. “I think I hear someone coming, they might discover us.”

“Are you sure?” said Graves, instantly alert. “I didn’t hear any – ”

Graves stopped speaking abruptly as Newt’s lips covered his, tongue slipping into his open mouth. Newt pulled Graves closer, pressing the length of their bodies together, cupping Graves’s jaw with both hands. Graves, in turn, sighed softly and blindly slid his hands through Newt’s hair, his fingers tangling in Newt’s curls.

The loud clang of Newt’s jeweled hairclip falling to the floor brought them both abruptly back to reality. Graves looked down at the hairclip on the floor, then back at Newt, curls tumbling around his face after Graves’s busy fingers had dislodged his hairclip. Smiling, he leaned in for another kiss, then with a small, reluctant sigh, released Newt.

“Let’s get this mission wrapped up, hmm?” he said, bending over to pick the hairclip up. “Our two friends from upstairs would probably not be best pleased if they found us loitering in this hallway.”

Newt laughed and nodded in agreement. He slipped his hand back into Graves’s as they left the mansion together.

 

***

 

It was late by then, and a number of guests were getting ready to leave the garden party. Stepping out of the mansion, Graves and Newt made their way toward the gates as well, bidding goodbye to some of the guests who were leaving at the same time as they were. Graves was extra affectionate the entire time, dropping little kisses on Newt’s temple or cheek, his arm curled possessively about Newt’s waist, and it was driving Newt absolutely _insane_. He gritted his teeth and forced a smile as they said their goodbyes to what seemed like the hundredth wizard that night, and decided that if they didn’t get out in the next five minutes, he would hex the entire lot of them, Percival’s mission be damned.

Thankfully, they finally managed to leave the gardens and made their way across the street to the seemingly deserted building opposite Platt’s mansion, from which Theseus’s Auror team had been conducting surveillance and backup for their mission.

“Here you go,” Graves said, drawing a thick roll of parchment out from his pocket and handing it to Theseus. “These are copies of all the financial records Platt had among his personal documents.”

Theseus nodded, took the parchment and handed it to a member of his team, who promptly Disapparated with it, presumably back to the Ministry offices.

“Good show, Percy,” Theseus said, patting Graves’s shoulder. “You and Newt made a very convincing husband and wife.” He looked from Graves to Newt, and grinned.

Graves pursed his lips and caught Newt eyeing him slyly out of the corner of his eye.

“Take care of my little brother, okay?” said Theseus brightly. “Bye now!” He gestured to the rest of the surveillance team, and they Disapparated one after the other, leaving Graves and Newt alone.

Graves frowned at the spot where Theseus had been standing. “Did he _plan_ this?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” sighed Newt. “I guess I’ll have to buy him a thank-you gift later.”

“Sign it from both of us,” said Graves, then turned to Newt, smiling. “Now...may I bring you somewhere more private?”

“Y’know,” said Newt, eyes glinting, “the Aurors have all left, this building’s empty…”

“Newt!” said Graves, looking scandalized.

They Disapparated together with a pop, Newt’s delighted laughter still ringing in the air behind them.

 

End.

  

  


End file.
